


this morning, with her, having coffee

by onlyone_cannoli



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Wayhaught - Freeform, anyway talk to me about nicole, leia the cat, sunday morning fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyone_cannoli/pseuds/onlyone_cannoli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>-actual quote by nicole haught, when asked about the definition of paradise</p>
            </blockquote>





	this morning, with her, having coffee

**Author's Note:**

> okay, no, really, i'm not trying to steal johnny cash's words but i swear nicole actually said that.

Two years and 53 revenants later, Nicole asks Waverly to move in with her.

Despite the countless hours spent rehearsing in front of Leia and flippant reassurances from Wynonna, the delivery is still a little clumsy and frantic when she pops the question over a fiery hell portal that has just claimed a particularly unpleasant revenant named Machete Sam. (Not exactly the most romantic, she knows, but with the adrenaline from yet another near-death experience pumping through her veins, she finds the words spilling out of her mouth practically of their own accord.)

“I mean, you don’t have to move  _everything_ , of course, because my place isn’t really that big, which you obviously already know,” she babbles, pointedly ignoring Wynonna’s obnoxiously conspicuous attempts to eavesdrop on their conversation. “So I was thinking maybe if we start with just, like, the essentials, we could make it work until I can maybe get, you know, a new place…or something…”

Nicole’s words trail off, because she’s simultaneously on the verge of panic and also completely mesmerized by the fierce angel that is Waverly Earp, standing before her with cheeks flushed pink under layers of soot and dirt and grime, her shotgun resting on her shoulder, looking at Nicole with eyes like wildfire. Nicole grabs her belt buckle to steady herself, thinking the way her heart had been pounding a moment ago with a murderous revenant holding a machete to her throat is nothing compared to the way it’s pounding now, crashing a thunderous symphony against her ribs and just about ready to leap right out of her chest.

Waverly just smiles.

There’s a loud clatter as she tosses her shotgun aside, and the next thing Nicole knows, Waverly is jumping into her arms and kissing her soundly, chasing away any residual fears or worries - well, chasing away  _all_  thoughts, really, that aren’t immediately related to the fact that Nicole is kissing an angel.

When they finally break apart, giddy and breathless, Waverly looks up at her with eyes bright in the light of the smoldering demon hole, dancing like firecrackers across still waters. “It’s about  _time_  you asked. Another day putting up with Wynonna’s whining and I would’ve had to shoot her,” she says matter-of-factly, and they both dissolve into laughter at Wynonna’s indignant shout of “ _I heard that!”_

So that’s how, for the better part of the past month, Nicole has had the unbelievable privilege of waking up every morning with Waverly in her bed.

Some days, it still feels like a dream. And Nicole remembers a time when dreams were all she had; a time when the first light of day only served as an augury of war as Nicole battled with her snooze button, trying vainly to put off facing painful reality, if only for another five minutes.

But those days are long past. Now, Nicole finds that she doesn’t mind waking up at all, because the reality that sets in after she shuts off her alarm clock is immeasurably better than any dream; because now, she knows that the first thing she’ll see when she opens her eyes is Waverly.

Waverly, with her hair spread out behind her like ripples on the pillow, her face serene and infinitely beautiful in sleep. Waverly, with her lips slightly parted as her breath whispers across Nicole’s skin, sheets tangled around their legs, cocooning them together. Waverly, perfect in all the ways that Nicole can imagine and more.

This particular morning is no different, as Nicole slowly drifts awake with the warmth of Waverly’s body curled up against her, the familiar weight of Waverly’s arm around her waist and her head resting on Nicole’s chest. She sighs, pulling Waverly a little closer as she waits for the haze of sleep to clear from her mind, losing herself a little in the steady rise and fall of Waverly’s chest.

She waits another minute, admiring the perfect contours of her girlfriend’s face and the way her skin seems to glow in the hazy morning light trickling through the curtains. Sighing again, she presses a kiss to the top of Waverly’s head before she carefully extracts herself and slips out of bed.

And of course, it’s not as if Waverly hasn’t spent many a night before, but somehow it’s different now. Different, walking out of the bedroom ( _their_ bedroom!) and seeing the shelves in the living room, once barely occupied with the odd novel or magazine but now overflowing with Waverly’s books and charts and folders and maps. Different, walking into the kitchen and pulling out two coffee mugs from the cupboard instead of one. Different, knowing she’ll never have to say  _it’s late, I’d better get going_ ; knowing that when Waverly says  _let’s go home_  she means here, their home.

(If Nicole had stopped to think about it, she might be a little scared at how easily the change comes to her, but she doesn’t. She considers this to be Waverly’s always-on-the-go attitude starting to rub off on her.)

Even Leia seems to have adjusted already, although Nicole suspects this is mainly because she’s learned that Waverly is an easy target for scraps.

“Getting a little chubby, there, aren’t you,” Nicole remarks out loud to said cat, who has suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. Nicole takes out a can of cat food and watches her as she slinks forward, tail swishing methodically through the air, luminous green eyes fixed on Nicole’s hands. She pounces the second Nicole empties the can into her food bowl, nearly knocking over the spice rack.

“A fierce hunter for sure,” Nicole laughs, affectionately swatting at Leia’s tail before turning her attention to her own breakfast.

She gets the coffee going first, sifting through their collection in the cupboard before settling on a gourmet blend that Waverly had picked out on their last trip to the Big City. She takes another moment to plug her iPod into the speakers on the island, and as the first few songs of Waverly’s  _Sunday mornings_  playlist fill the air, blending with the sweet aroma of hazelnuts and vanilla, Nicole wonders - not for the first time - when her life had become a fairytale.

She starts humming along absentmindedly as she sets about pulling ingredients for Haughtcakes. (It’s a family pancake recipe that’s been passed down through four generations of Haughts; Nicole and her brother Jesse had grown up eating them every Sunday, and after a year or two, it only felt right that Nicole brought a little of her own traditions to her Purgatory family. Wynonna had christened them “Haughtcakes” upon her first tasting (“I can’t believe  _four generations_ of you have neglected to seize upon this opportunity”), and the name had stuck, even back home.)

Nicole loses herself in the quiet normalcy of the moment as she whips up the batter, embracing the fact that it’s just another Sunday morning, with no emergencies and no revenants, and that she’s neither cop nor demon hunter but just another girl, simply making breakfast for her girlfriend. She’s fully engrossed in her pancake-making by the time her favorite song comes on, dancing and flipping pancakes to the beat and singing out loud with abandon:

_“That may be all I need, in darkness she is all I see, come and rest your bones with me, driving slow on Sunday morning…”_

Nicole spins around on her heel as she croons the last line of the chorus, playing air drums with the spatula and wooden spoon in her hands, and promptly stumbles in surprise as she catches sight of Waverly leaning against the doorway, wearing an oversized  _Purgatory Police Department_ t-shirt, watching her with her arms crossed over her chest. 

Nicole feels a little blush color her cheeks as she steadies herself, but she recovers almost immediately with a wide, dimple-popping grin. “Good morning.”

“I’ll say,” Waverly giggles, and the way the sunlight catches her face seems to magnify the radiance of her million-watt smile. She raises an eyebrow, her eyes dancing. “Breakfast  _and_  a show?”

Nicole shrugs, her arms braced against the counter. “I aim to please,” she grins.

“Well, lucky me,” Waverly giggles again, and Nicole swears that pure happiness blooms from Waverly’s smile as she comes around the island toward Nicole, filling the air around them. Nicole breathes it in, wrapping her arms around Waverly, and revels in the way she can taste the words  _I love you_  on her lips when they kiss.

“No,” Nicole says. “I believe  _I’m_  the lucky one.”

Waverly sticks her tongue out at her. “So, what’s on the breakfast menu today?”

“Haughtcakes, of course,” Nicole says. “And I thought we could add some of those fresh blueberries Gus got us the other - um, the other…day…”

Nicole’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt, because Waverly has suddenly reached up on her tiptoes and is now slowly licking a drop of batter off the spatula in Nicole’s hand, her eyes locked on Nicole’s.

“Is that all?” she says, her eyes trailing down Nicole’s body. “‘Cause I was hoping we could maybe…start with something else.”

Nicole clears her throat. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Waverly says, biting the bottom of her lip, and Nicole feels her knees go weak. She’s just about made up her mind to grab Waverly and carry her back to the bedroom when there’s a sudden pounding on the door.

They both freeze.

Nicole raises an eyebrow, her hands still on Waverly’s waist. “Revenants don’t knock, right?”

“We could ignore it,” Waverly says hopefully, shooting a longing glance in the direction of the bedroom.

More pounding.

Waverly growls and goes for her shotgun, which is propped up by the microwave in the corner. “It  _better_  be a revenant, because I will  _still_ shoot whoever is stupid enough to interrupt my morning.”

“Ooh-kay, Wave, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Nicole laughs. “It’s probably just Mrs. Warner downstairs or something. Why don’t I take that” - she gently pries the shotgun out of Waverly’s hands and steers her toward the barstool - “and you can check on the Haughtcakes and pour us some coffee while I go see who it is.”

Waverly scowls darkly but complies, and Nicole smiles to herself as Waverly’s grumbling follows her out to the front hallway. She checks to make sure the shotgun is loaded as she approaches the door - you could never be too careful, in Purgatory - but before she can even ask who’s there, she hears the click of the key in the lock and she’s nearly bowled over by the tall figure in jeans and a leather jacket that barges through the open door.

“Wynonna!” Nicole almost yells in surprise. “What are - is there an emergency? You should’ve called! We’re not - “

“Whoa, where’s the fire, Officer Haughtshot?” Wynonna says, holding her hands up in mock surrender and raising an eyebrow as she brushes past Nicole. “All’s quiet on the home front, all right, don’t jinx it.”

Nicole knits her eyebrows, taking a moment to recover from her shock before she shuts the door and hurries after Wynonna. She reaches the kitchen in time to hear Waverly echo her exclamation: “Wynonna! What are you doing here?”

“Ran out of coffee at the Homestead,” Wynonna says, leaning against the island with her arms crossed, looking around at the two of them. “So I figured, you know, what better place to find coffee than the house of a cop?” She shrugs. “Plus, you gave me a key.”

“For  _emergencies_ ,” Waverly says exasperatedly.

Wynonna spins around on her heel to face Nicole, making a finger gun and pretending to squint down the barrel. “You look me in the eye, Officer Haught, and tell me that not having coffee in the morning is  _not_  an emergency.”

Nicole can’t help but grin, catching Waverly’s disgruntled expression over Wynonna’s head. “I suppose it is.”

Waverly sighs noisily. “I regret the day you two ever become friends,” she grumbles as Nicole pours out another cup of coffee. “Nicole is supposed to take  _my_  side.”

“Oh, please, Waverly darling,” Wynonna drawls, adopting an atrocious fake British accent and pretending to caress Nicole’s hand as she takes the coffee cup from her. “Don’t be jealous, you know my relationship with Nicole is… _strictly physical_. I’ve been begging her for  _months_  to leave you, but she believes in this thing called  _honor_  or whatever. I don’t know how much more my poor heart can take.” She pretends to swoon with the back of her hand against her forehead and slumps back in her chair.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that right?” Waverly says in a conversational tone, taking a sip of her coffee. “Like, out of control.”

Wynonna sits back up and pouts at her sister. “I turn 30 in less than a month, all right,” she says. “Let me have my fun before I become old and decrepit and start drinking  _decaf_  like Dolls.” She shudders at the thought.

“Older and none the wiser,” Waverly remarks, rolling her eyes, but Wynonna is too distracted by the plate of pancakes Nicole has just set down on the table to hear her.

“ _Haughtcakes?”_  Wynonna exclaims. “Man, I picked a good day to come over.”

“30 and still mooching,” Waverly mutters under her breath as she accepts a plate from Nicole.

“I  _heard_  that,” Wynonna growls, and snatches the bowl of blueberries before Waverly can reach it.

“ _Hey!_ ” Waverly squeals indignantly and swipes at her sister, but Wynonna deftly dodges out of the way as she pops blueberries into her mouth.

Nicole carefully nudges the coffee cups away from the edge of the table before she leans back against the counter with her own plate of pancakes, watching with amusement as the sisters continue to squabble over breakfast. She’s debating whether or not she should intervene in the subsequent struggle over the maple syrup when there’s another knock on the door that makes them all pause.

“ _Now_  what?” Waverly asks in consternation.

“Oh, I invited Doc and Dolls,” Wynonna says, and takes the moment to grab the syrup bottle out of Waverly’s hand before dashing out of the kitchen to get the door.

“I am  _revoking_  your right to have keys to this house!” Waverly shouts after her before slumping back down on her stool and looking up at Nicole, her bottom lip pushed out in an unbearably cute pout. “Can’t we ever have a  _normal, quiet_ morning around here?”

“Apparently not,” Dolls’ gruff voice says, and they both look up to see Wynonna return with Doc and Dolls in tow.

“I do apologize for barging in on you ladies like this,” Doc says, taking off his hat and nodding at them in greeting, “but Wynonna made the fateful mistake of mentionin’ that Haughtcakes would be served.”

“All moochers, all of you,” Waverly says, shaking her head in disgust. “I guess you’ll be wanting coffee, too.”

“Oh, shut up, you love us,” Wynonna says dismissively, and the usual banter starts to fill Nicole’s little kitchen as Dolls volunteers to make the coffee and Doc helps pass around more mugs and plates. Waverly continues to grumble and pout, although her spirits lighten considerably after she and Dolls conspire to dump a teaspoon of salt in Wynonna’s coffee; Wynonna promptly spits out said coffee all over an extremely displeased Leia, and spends the remainder of breakfast stomping around and swearing revenge on the culprit as Waverly smugly sips her coffee.

Nicole can only laugh as she watches the chaos unfolding in her kitchen, and she catches Waverly’s hand and twirls her around a little on the stool before leaning down to kiss her on the cheek, thinking she wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
